


the devil is always cold

by bunnybunz



Category: Weak Hero, Weak Hero (Webcomic), Weak Hero (Webtoon)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Tasty Bad Boy(s), you know you want it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybunz/pseuds/bunnybunz
Summary: You and Jimmy used to be close, or at least, as close as the public eye would allow.After he is defeated by Ben Park, Jimmy grows distant. As you struggle to hold onto the last pieces of yourself and the fourth strongest member of the Union, Jack Kang reaches out to you.Loving the devil has never been easy.
Relationships: Jack Kang/Reader, Jeong-yeon/Reader, Jihun Bae/Reader, Jihun Bae/Reader/Jeong-yeon Kang, Jimmy Bae/Reader, Jimmy Bae/Reader/Jack Kang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	the devil is always cold

The act of loving goes far beyond things we hear from others.

Jimmy Bae is ferocious, people whisper. A person of violence, of destruction, of pride. He’s merciless, a real devil. Instead of a hot pitchfork, he saunters around Yoosun with a wicked grin and a balled fist. He punishes the good and the bad and everything in between.  
Fire springs from the ground his feet have kissed, and making eye contact—even from a distance, has said to cause temporary loss of bladder control. (Noted from the Shuttle Patch itself.)  
His knuckles never fall dull upon any jaw, anonymous writers post. They say the crack can be heard resonating through the school lot, through the local park, through Yoosun alleyways.

He’s a dangerous man.

Jimmy Bae the fearsome, they say. Jimmy Bae the heartless.

And to some extent, you guess it’s true. You’ve seen the look in his eyes before, the life that sparks like an electrical fire right before the first swing—that look that completes Jimmy Bae’s desperate drive for adrenaline like a missing puzzle piece.

But to you, Jimmy Bae was none of those things. To your ever-expanding universe, he was the raging sun. He had a gravitational pull on you, managed to suck you in with nothing more than a look or a few words. A magnetizing man, a killer man, a lovely man.

You were no stranger to the rumors floating around Jimmy, but those words will always stay just words to you. After all, you’d seen firsthand how he cared for his closest friends. Cared for both you, and Jack Kang.

Jimmy knew of his reputation of course, and had a strange and lingering adoration for it. And so the affection that was dealt to both you and Jack was always subtle, always something that would appear like a wisp of smoke. There for one second and gone the next.  
It was always appreciated for the ephemeral moment it would show itself, and though Jack didn’t seem to mind the brevity, you always secretly yearned for something more.

At night alone in your room, you’d bundle yourself up nice and warm in blankets. Staring at the ceiling, thinking about Jimmy. Wondered if he did all this because he was fearful of losing claim to his title.

Jimmy Bae, fearful. Anyone else would’ve laughed at the incredulity, but you weren’t anyone else.

So you wondered more, pondered further. Wondered if he was afraid that he couldn’t convince himself he was a cold-blooded predator if he allowed himself to love, even just a bit.  
If he realized he hadn’t embodied the mask people had carved out for him, would everything he had been fighting for become a charade, gone up in smoke?

You both stir yourself from peace and lull yourself to sleep on these thoughts, in vain. Your concerns and curiosities did nothing to answer your questions. The most you can bring yourself to do is observe and understand.

So when he snarks you, feet propped on the table in the pools place for the third time that week, you do nothing but smile at him.

“What do you mean Jimmy?”

He groans and gets up, rolls his eyes like you’re a waste of his time and space.

“I told you I fucking hate coke. Pepsi, dumbass. Pepsi!” He taps the cold metal can on your head, but it doesn’t hurt and you’re not scared despite his looming height.

You’re sure he said exactly the opposite last time, but when you catch sight of Eunjang uniforms by the cue sticks, you swallow your words.

“Ah Jimmy, sorry about that. I totally suck, huh?” You laugh and let him keep pestering you with the can.

You glance at the Eunjang kids again and pause when you catch Jack’s gaze, eyes dark and hard like shining onyx stones.  
You recognize the look. It’s the shimmer he gets in his eyes when anyone talks shit about Jimmy, the twinkle that possesses him the moment his fingers itch to form a fist.  
Strangely, it’s been growing in him recently. Stranger yet, it seems to surface more frequently when Jimmy speaks.

Your eyes fall into a lock with his, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. Perhaps a bypassing detail for anyone else, but for the ever-reticent Jack Kang, this was a telltale sign of a temper quickly boiling over.

You soften your eyes and wink at him. This simple gesture is enough to derail him from his previous growing anger, simmering down to flickering embers. Jack turns away from the scene, but his fists are still balled.

It didn’t always used to be like this. You’ve found yourself reminiscing on the older days more than you care to say aloud. It was something you did in private, so you could pretend you didn’t notice Jimmy changing.

You recall when Jimmy used to loop his arm around your shoulders when the three of you strut down the street. His body was always pressed to yours, large and warm in the summer, arm weighing on you like a heavy blanket. The arm migrated to your back as the leaves turned crimson, then your waist when the wind blew harsher.

You would never say, but you ached for the feeling of his fingers on you again. It used to be so effortless, he was a casual man. A friendly pat here, and a loving ruffle of your hair there.  
It was addicting, he was a passionate man.

Once he had brushed his fingers along your jaw when examining a bruise you had gotten in the crossfire of a fight. Gossamer touch, but leaving searing skin in it’s wake.  
You remember the look on his face like it was singed into the back of your eyelids. A slight smirk, cocked head, eyes gleaming auburn—a kindling fire waiting for a forest to burn.

Jimmy Bae wanted you. You felt it with every aching fibre of your being, and you so _desperately_ wanted him too. So you leaned in and let the flames consume you.

He reciprocated as much as he dared, which was enough to turn heads in public. Induce hushed voices asking who that was, standing so close to Jimmy Bae?  
The whispering was widespread, but no solid evidence of a relationship could be forged from any amount of blurry cellphone pictures, or firsthand accounts. This was, of course, because Jimmy Bae and you were stuck in the limbo between friendship and perhaps something more.  
Whenever you wanted to ask, your eyes meet his and there’s always a silent plead—sloppily hidden as a command—to never ask.

So you didn’t.

Somewhere between the brawl with Ben Park and Jimmy Bae, Jimmy had grown cold. Harsher on you, more secretive to Jack. Both of you asked, but he would say nothing worth noting. Always throwing red herrings, making shitty jokes.  
Brushing you off, brushing Jack Kang off, brushing you both off.  
Even smaller things, like his phone, would always be flipped upside down. Never answered when ringing. Never noticed when vibrating, at least, not around the both of you. A smile plastered on his lips like a dare to even fucking ask.  
Soon, all you and Jack had was each other.

You recall the week things shifted, even thinking about it left a creaking throb in your chest.

Jimmy had flaked out on Jack for a while and completely avoided you altogether. He’d be busy, he said. Union things, he muttered, before stalking away. He was always occupied now, always too focused on everything and anything but you and Jack. A month of diverted gazes, shifty feet and shitty grins later, he finally called you and Jack out again.

“How much of that shit are you gonna drink?”

You blink and look up at Jimmy, sitting across you with a sneer and some bruises on his pretty face.

“I’m sorry?”

He leans in and sucks his teeth audibly, almost obnoxiously. When he speaks, it’s slow like ridicule.

“I asked, when the fuck are you going to lay off on those sodas?” He scoffs and points at the drink in front of him, then at you. “You know how slow you’ve been getting?”

Jimmy laughs and elbows Jack, who sits stiffly beside him. “They think it ain’t shit enough that all they can do is run!”  
Jack does not utter a word. You can see his adam’s apple bob when he swallows, his jaw tense when he clenches his teeth. But he says nothing.

Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind. He turns to you again, gesturing in the air.

“Do us all a favor and get rid of that, will ya?”

All you can do is watch the words form and fall from his lips and nod. They descend deep into a cavern in your heart, which consumes it eagerly regardless of the sour feeling it leaves behind.

Jimmy was tenser. Meaner. More eager than ever to defend his title.

You forgave him, because he never seemed _really_ happy about it. His eyes didn’t crinkle the way they used to when he made a jest, his teeth never flashed a smile quite the same. But the words that used to be _just_ words still echoed in your mind.

Jimmy the wretched, Jimmy the heartless. Jimmy Bae, the real devil.

But not all was lost. Almost immediately, Jack caught onto your plight. He noticed the hurt in your eyes when you laughed at a particularly cruel joke Jimmy made about you, hears the drag in your tone when you’re asked to do another chore suit for a shuttle.

Jack Kang is a quiet one. He’s silent, but ever watchful. This makes him a hard opponent to read, a hard opponent to fight, and an even harder opponent to hide things from.

“It doesn’t bother me at all,” You say, picking at your fingers. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

You press your back into your bedroom wall, kicking your feet absentmindedly off the bed and hoping to recede into the cracks, away from his umber gaze.

He clicks his tongue and sighs, shoulders dropping, brown eyes piercing straight through you.

“’Doesn’t bother you?’ ‘Haven’t noticed?’” He sits beside you and the bed creaks under his weight, movie on the television long forgotten. He reaches out and places two hands, almost familiar, on your shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on. Doesn’t this…”

He hesitates, like he’s wondering if ‘hurt feelings’ is something he should talk about. Like he’s wondering about the implications between you and Jimmy, about the space he had to wriggle in between the both of you and ask.  
You hate that he figured you out. Hate that you even had feelings to be hurt in the first place. You despised that Jack and Jimmy were so hardened by the streets that even emotions were embarrassing to speak about in private, let alone display in public.

You place a hand on his wrist and feel his bone and tendons under your fingertips. Somewhere beyond that, there’s a faint pulse, quiet and steady, just like him.

“Jack, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You smile at him and hope it’s enough reassurance, but one look at him and you know otherwise.

Jack holds your stare. He’s calling out your bluff without speaking, and for some reason that hurts more than all the horrible things Jimmy has said to you.  
You never lied to Jack, because you never had a reason to. As close as he was to Jimmy, he was to you. He had unwavering loyalty to anyone he trusted, brutally honest and always genuine. You couldn’t ask for a better person to be by your side.

Jack hadn’t spoke much when you first met and that put you on edge. His gaze was too intense, eyebrows always set in a deep furrow. There was no way to read this man, and yet no way to read him wrong—don’t mess with him, and he won’t mess with you.  
You avoided him, much like everyone else does when they first meet Jack, until the day you watched him fight.

It was an accident. Your eyes were always on Jimmy, always following his bouncing feet, flying jabs and dirty mouth. Then Jack crossed your vision, and you were unable to look away.

He was fierce, hits landing hard, fast, and always right on target.  
Jack was like a machine, churning away at making the best hits with the fastest recovery times. Most shocking to you was, unlike Jimmy, he never lashed his tongue even once.  
He made no promises to take his opponent down, no taunts or mockery to discredit their fighting style. For what Jack lacked in banter, he made up for in actions.

It was then you noticed the way he purchased hot drinks for you after a cold day, how he offered you the spare motorbike helmet each and every time, opting to ride without one even if it destroyed his gelled hair.  
“I like the wind.” He’d say. But you knew he was lying the moment he looked in the first rear-view mirror you came across, re-styling stray pieces.

Even then, you hadn’t cared for him much. All your mind and body was dedicated to Jimmy, until one day you found Jack glancing over his shoulder in the middle of fights, something Jimmy never did, seeming to search for something in your direction.

It irritated you at first. Made you feel self-conscious, but then you realized he was checking to ensure you were safe from harm. He was sweet in a subtle way that was different from Jimmy, the sparseness in his care was due more to nativity than selectivity.

You learned to trust him, understand him through actions and not words. Jack always found the time to be with you. He’d listen to your doting on Jimmy, nodding along, pretending to be intrigued and only falling asleep once. From your time together, you had learned Jack was always honest, always straightforward, always speaking his mind.

You appreciated his commitment to tell the truth, which is why your inability to reciprocate was so painful now.

“Seriously.” You slide your hand from his wrist up his arm, the muscle rippling like a tide under his pressed white shirt. His eyes travel to the movement, stare weighing heavily between you two.

“I’m alright, Jack.” You try to pry him off you gently now that he was distracted.

“Confess to him.”

You stop short. “What?”

You look back up at Jack and he’s got those steely eyes trained on you again, pinning you to the spot.

“You like Jimmy, so confess to him.”

You falter for a split second, then create a diversion with raucous laughter. “Oh Jack, I thought you were being serious for a second. Geez dude!” You slap his chest lightly but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Confess? You already know how deep the Union’s got him.”

Jack remains unfaltering and you try your best to hide how it unnerves you, reminds you of when you knew so little about him.

“Do it. You have nothing to lose.” His words slice through you like a hot knife and it breaks your heart just a little bit more. Nothing to lose?

Jack’s lips are set in a straight line, like always. He’s always so monotonous, but when you speak it sounds like a squeak of the mattress springs, “Jack... Are you alright?”

He’s got a look in his eye you can’t understand. “He’s hurting you and I hate it. Tell him how you feel. If he likes you then it’ll stop.”

You almost want to laugh at how easy he makes it sound, how he just ignored years of your strife and struggle just to hold onto a piece of the ever-elusive Jimmy Bae. But when you look at Jack, you can’t bring yourself to do anything but shrink away.

“…I’m scared of what’ll happen after.” You say.

He looks at you, really _looks_ at you, and like always, you feel so transparent around him, so naked and bared to the bone.

“Me too.” He says.

Before you can make anything of this, he pulls you into a hug. He’s much larger and envelopes you too easily, all the sharp edges of his bones and firmness of his muscles and the pounding of his heart boxed into one embrace.

Jack Kang was the turbulent one. The tricky one, calm on the surface and storming underneath.

You’ve seen him throttle men twice his size with no trouble at all, a fierce energy blazing through him thirsting for more bloodshed. His fists are iron, and he’s fast as a bullet. But in this moment, he holds you tenderly, carefully, as if you’d splinter and shatter under his callous touch.

“Jack…”   
You return the hug and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pushing your face into his neck. He smells like motorcycle gas and hair mousse.  
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You say.

He swallows a lump in his throat, you can feel him gulp against your shoulder. When he speaks, his voice cracks. “You didn’t.”

“Jack?” You knit your brows together, using your hands to pry him away so you can get a closer look at him. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

He holds on tight for a long second, constricting his arms around your torso like it was the last thing keeping him afloat on a storming ocean, trying to drag him deeper, deeper, deeper.  
But he pulls back eventually, and it’s so sudden your teeth click with the motion.

His hair is disheveled, falling across his forehead and brushing his dark brown lashes, close enough for you to count, so close you can see the pang of desire, of reservation in his eyes, shining like wet gems, feel every single warm breathy exhale on your lips.

“…Jack?”

He doesn’t reply, holds you there, just watching, oozing restraint. Despite his stiffness, you become aware of the soft duvet beneath you both, aware of the deepening orange sky across the horizon, bleeding past your curtains, washing over the room, and the chill that comes with it.

His grip on your arms tightens and then relaxes, tightens then relaxes, like he’s debating something. You watch him, entranced by the way the sunset put embers into his chocolate eyes.

“I…” He begins, voice low, lower than you’ve ever heard, almost a whisper. “I…”

He cups your face with his fingers, just barely daring to touch you. Everything he does is done with hesitation.  
The moment feels fragile, like glass. Like a pin dropping, or just a fragment of doubt would shatter it into a million pieces, but now, this second, he was here. Moving closer so slowly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes searching, breathing heavy and mingling with yours.

You were confused still, conflicted. Jack was so close, so warm, so enticing, and yet Jimmy lingered in the back of your mind, his auburn hair, chesire grin and cheeky personality burning a hole into your heart and shooting tremors through your hands.  
What would he say about this, about you, about Jack? And darker still, a thought slipped into the cracks of your heart: would he even care? Did you even mean anything to him anymore?

You knew Jack was thinking the same, knew he was keenly aware of his proximity, aware of how he was waltzing along the edge of no return—not just for himself, but you as well.

And this may have been what stopped him short. Pausing, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, each seeming longer than the last.  
Then he pulls away, the space between you put a cold ache in your chest.

Jack puts his face in his hands, twisting his body away from you, like he can’t bear to see you.

“I’m… Sorry.”

You still feel an icy tundra washing over your body, but couldn’t understand why if Jimmy was the one you were thinking of.  
Still, for whatever reasons Jack had, you wanted to be there for him. You reached out a hand, caressing his back.

“It’s alright,” You say. “We’ll always have each other.”

He says nothing, but you think he leans into your touch just a bit more.

After this moment, Jack makes it a point to sit beside you, much to Jimmy’s surprise.

“Picking favorites now are we?” Jimmy would joke, but his laughter was always hard around the edges. Like he knew he missed something vital. “How the tables turn.”

Jack wouldn’t respond to him, instead finding your hand under the table to give it a squeeze. Just a simple action, fingers interlocking with your own.

This was enough to keep you going for another month—the time it took for you to find Jimmy squatting behind the school, smoking a cigarette and palming at his eyes.

It was chilly out, almost nearing the end of the winter. A thin sheet of snow covered the floor, and though you were bundled up, Jimmy was wearing the same old Union jacket Na had assigned to the Yoosun district.  
You learned a lot about that jacket, learned to love how Jimmy beamed, wearing it for the first time back in middle school, learned to hate how Na used it as a chain to keep dragging Jimmy back into the dark. Those harrowing nights he’d return from always beat, bloodied, but never defeated.

“Jimmy,” You start, and flinch at how your voice echoed, louder than you’ve heard it in months. You clear your throat, adjusting your volume. “Jimmy, what are you doing out here?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Only exhales through his nose, something between a grunt and a gritty chuckle scraping past his lungs.  
He palms at his eyes for a few seconds more, turned away from you, spine curved into a lazy cove.

Then he looks up at you. His eyes are gleaming in the winter sun, bursting with something like adrenaline, anchored down by something so heavy, so deep in those spiraling fiery eyes.

His words make a puff of smoke in the air, mingling with the cold mist seeping from his lips, “The fuck do you want?”

You cringe at his tone and look away, sticking your hands into your pockets, swaying about.

“I was just…” You trail off, because you’re scared, that’s what you are. Scared of making him mad, scared of making things worse, scared of being pushed away. “…Wondering if you were cold.”

He gives you a look and shakes his head, turning back to face the furnace, gray smog exuding from the pipes.

“The fuck? Why would I be?”

You say nothing. His voice is clipped. Sharper than it usually is, and although you’re used to the pain, it cuts deep.  
You can tell he isn’t interested in speaking to you, that he’s telling you to leave in the subtle way Jimmy Bae always does, in the subtle way he used to hold you, touch you, worship you.

But you know what this means. You can feel the end creeping up on you like a shadow when dusk looms, rising from the grave you’ve dug so deep for it, hoping to never see it in the light of day again. If you leave now, you’ll never get the chance to speak to him again.  
He was closing you out, so slowly you hadn’t even recognized it at first. Looking back now, he had given you all the signs.

“Jimmy, I really—” Your voice flickers in and out like a dying flame. “I have something to tell you.”

He sighs. A deep, heavy, burdened sigh. You’ve never heard him sound like this before, you think he must be just as heartbroken as you, maybe, but then he flashes his teeth like he’s laughing at a joke.

“Listen. Babe.” He pivots himself, now facing you completely. He rests his elbows on his knees, propping an arm up and resting his chin on it. “Babe. You’re killing me here. People drift apart, you know that, don’tcha babe?”

He takes a drag from the cigarette, sucking so deep into his lungs you swear he’d turn purple. Pulls it away from his lips, chapped from the cold.

“I’m sure everyone else has noticed, catch my drift?” He cocks his head at you and suddenly you’re thrust back in time, back when he first looked at you like that under a spring sky. Eyes on fire, man on fire, Jimmy Bae and you, on _fire_.  
Then you’re back, standing frigid in the ice, snow dusting your lashes, your hands, your cheeks. Just you, in the cold.

“You’ve been pissing me off, babe. Clinging like a bitch. And I know ya know better than that, so I’m gonna ask you nicely, listen real fuckin' close.”  
He leans in like he’s telling you a secret, an eyebrow quirked up.  
“Give me some space, and I won’t take out your two front teeth.”

He takes another lengthy inhale of burning tobacco then drops it alongside the numerous other cigarette butts on the floor, crushing it underfoot his new sneakers.

Grins up at you. “Nothing personal though, right babe?”

You’re stupefied at first.

Jimmy bae, the fearsome.

So shocked and numbed that you can barely feel anything but your bursting heart.

Jimmy Bae, the heartless.

It itches like a fresh scab stretching across all the flesh of your insides, thrumming for the moment you reach the end of your rope, thrumming for release.

Jimmy Bae, the real devil.

You take the first faltering step backwards, and the spell he had over you is finally broken.  
Another shaking step, another, until you turn and run back towards the school, running past a blur of leafless trees and a halted figure, leaving Jimmy alone by the furnace.

Jack unsticks himself from the ground, wrenching around to watch your retreating figure, brows shooting upwards. “What the hell?” He spots Jimmy, a loose smile playing at the corners of his lips. “What did you…?”

Jimmy combs a hand through his hair and shrugs sluggishly.

“What? Don’t tell me you feel bad for them?”

Jack freezes, watching Jimmy. “Fuck,” He mutters, squeezing his eyes shut, harder and harder until he sees stars, sees your silhouette fading into the distance, sees himself telling you to confess. “Fuck!”

He opens then, shooting Jimmy a look that he’s never once in his life had the anger to muster. Jimmy hums, amused, as Jack takes off after you.

He hears the echoes of Jack calling you ringing in his head, ringing in that small enclosure, carrying long and far from the tiny alley leading to the school.

Only when he’s sure that both of you are long gone does he let out another exhale, body uncoiling and falling into itself, crumpling like paper.  
He pats his hair free of the snow and rubs at his reddened nose, snowflakes falling upon his face, melting instantly. Walking up to the furnace, he warms his hands and pulls the Union jacket closer to his body. Pulls out a cigarette and a lighter.

_Click. Click. Click._

“Ah, forget it.”

He pockets the lighter and just lets the cigarette dangle from his lips, crossing his arms over his body, letting the frigid air slow his mind, his pulse.

Jimmy stands there for a long time, until the sun falls below the horizon, until the shadows cast by the trees consume him, all alone. He doesn’t mind. He conditioned himself to be alright with it last year, right before the fight with Ben Park. Right after he saw the way Jack looked back at you.

He takes out his phone, switches it on. The light is blinding for a second, like the sun, then his eyes adjust. About a dozen messages from Kingsley Kwan, a few from Phillip Kim.

Trash to him. Amber eyes search beyond that, swipes a finger to clear notifications.

Jimmy stands there, reveling in the image, basking in the light it sweeps over his face. The last bit of you he had to hold onto, a photo taken earlier last year. Just you, Jack and him sitting around a trashfire in the Yeongduengpo Local Park. Simpler days, easier days.

His eyes drift to your face, then to the arm he had wrapped around your waist. Hears the wind bellow, feels his fingers twitch, colder than ever.

“Hah, shit.”

He shoves the phone into his back pocket, shaking his head and speaking to no one in particular.

“I’m freezing my ass off here, you dense motherfuckers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you like this short piece I did. If you enjoyed it, be sure to hit kudos and leave a comment! Thanks for reading! <3


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